At my Treshold
by Morgane
Summary: After all, she's my misbegotten responsibility. My duty. My burden. My sister.....Fifteen years after she was thrown into Azkaban, Bellatrix appears on Narcissa´s doorsteps. No Blackcest, but lots of Charles Baudelaire


DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, but to You-Know-Who. No, not him. Her.

IMPORTANT: I am no native speaker. Everybody who finds some mistakes, is free to keep them

**1. At my threshold**

**---que tu viennes du ciel ou de l´enfer, qu´importe---**

Azkaban has changed her.

This is the first, almost analytical thought that crosses my mind when I open the door to Malfoy Manor and find her standing there. The vivacious girl I remember, all chatter and movement and ever-ready laugh, is gone. In her place stands this new creature, silent, sullen, starving. For several moments we stare at each other in voiceless confrontation. It´s been fifteen years since the last time I saw her: standing in front of the Wizengarment and proudly proclaiming her loyalty for a man who has both created and destroyed her. Although she must have felt my presence in the crowd that day - and Merlin knows that I was there at great personal risk for both me and my family -, she has not wasted a single look on me. She doesn't like me. I don't like her. Nevertheless we are bounded to each other.

I step away from the doorway and gesture towards the manor. "Come inside."

I know that Lucius won´t like this. I know that her presence can get us into a lot of trouble. But this knowledge can´t hinder me from helping her when she needs me.

After all, she's my misbegotten responsibility. My duty. My burden. My sister.

She pauses for a long moment before she takes a single step over the threshold, pulling her Death Eater mantle close around her body. In this pause I recognize my proud, arrogant, stubborn Bellatrix.

"I thought you might turn up eventually", I tell her. I can smell blood on her, and for once it's her own, not someone else's. "Are you hurt?"

My only answer is a careless shrug.

**2. Once upon a time**

**---l´irréparable ronge avec sa dent maudite notre âme---**

Some days she's unbearable - inconsiderate, loud, messy, rude and absolutely impossible to live with. Some days I wonder what the hell I was thinking to let her into my home in the first place.

Those are the rare, blessed days I pray for.

That's when she's Bellatrix Lestrange, the unscrupulous witch the Wizarding World fears so much (and with every right). That's when she's Bella, the impertinent sister who brought me so much anger and grief in my life. That's when she's the woman that I've grown to love and adore and detest. And true, that's when I most want to throw an Unforgivable at her.

But I know how to handle that; I had years to learn how to deal with my sister´s caprices. What I don´t know is how to react to the other Bellatrix who is occupying my favourite place in the library right now. She's not nearly obnoxious and annoying and insufferable enough for my comfort.

_((You´re the cleverest, Narcissa, you´ve got to look after your sisters.))_

These days I am glad that my mother´s dead - at least she can´t see the job I did. The stars of Andromeda and Bellatrix have both burned out and sometimes I wonder if this wasn´t partially my fault. I could have tried harder to save them.

I should have.

**3. Sisterhood**

**--que tu viennes du ciel ou de lénfer, qu´importe--**

She's curled up on my favourite armchair, staring into the dark; I do not think she hears my entrance. In times past she could have discriminated my arrival through the inferno of riots and the stink of death, but it has been too long, and Azkaban has her make forget.

And there is always a price for the forgetting.

Cocooned in her Death Eater mantle, skin pale, eyes veiled, she looks like a five-year-old again. Helplessly I stare at the hollow face, surprised at the sudden feeling of tenderness rising in me. Fifteen years in Azkaban have lost Bellatrix her beauty and her casual elegance as well as a grain of her sanity, and seeing the ruthless sister I remember reduced to this weak, helpless shell of a woman is almost more than I can bear.

_((Promise me to keep Bella out of trouble, Narcissa. You know what a walking liability your sister can be.)) _

Oh yeah, mother, I know.

It's a very rare occasion when one is given a second chance with someone they've wronged. And I don't think it's a chance I should let pass me by.

"Bella?"

At the sound of my voice, she jerks around almost violently, her eyes burning into mine, wild and furious and not quite sane. For one moment I am sure that she will draw her wand, that I am already dead, but then she recognizes me.

"Cissy." Her voice sounds light when she finally speaks, almost frighteningly so. "A little night stroll?"

"I couldn´t sleep." The calmness of my voice matches her own. "I was... thinking."

"Thinking, huh?" She quirks an eyebrow and I detect a bit of the old, sadistic humour in her dull eyes. "My, my, little sister, I haven't been here a week and you're already brooding."

I sigh. "You should better go to bed."

She holds her hands up briefly, the gesture half defensive, half indifferent. "Your house, your rules."

I cringe.

I don´t want that.

I don't want to be the one with the responsibilty.

I never wanted.

**4. Firebrand**

**---toi qui, comme un coup de couteau, dans mon cœur plaintif es entrée---**

She´s driving Lucius insane.

I see how he carefully observes her strolling around the manor like a caged animal and I can almost see the wary feeling of resention running down his spine. He doesn´t want her here. There is too much risk in her presence, too much danger, but there´s little he can say against the Dark Lord´s favourite servant. As a matter of fact he can be lucky that Rodolphus didn´t move in, too.

The thought is enough to make me shudder.

I´ve never liked my brother-in-law. He was like a torch burning, when he was young, and so was Bella. Together, they produced a glorious light, but they had burned themselves out twice as fast. It didn´t surprise me when they got into Azkaban. The only thing that slightly astonished me was the fact that they didn´t throw them out again.

**5. Blood to Blood**

**---la débauche et la mort sont deux aimable filles---**

One day I decide to clear out things.

"Bella - look, we don't exactly get along."

She grins as I sit across from her. "Quite right."

"And I don't have any right to tell you what to do. Not anymore. But - you are my - You were my-"

She purses her lips in a familiar expression of annoyance. "Don't give me that sister crap, Narcissa. Merlin knows you never bothered before."

"Well, I´m letting you stay, don´t I?" I snap, viciousness rising in me before I can stop it. Bella could try the patience of a saint - and I am no saint. "I wonder if you´d done the same for me if the roles were reversed."

She blinks, looks away, blinks once again. When she finally answers, her voice is little above a whisper. "I would."

And for the first time in years, we smile at each other.


End file.
